Back to Barcelona Part 1

From Fes, we headed back to Barcelona for the final leg of our adventure. Despite flying the 2.5-hour journey with Ryan Air, the flight was surprisingly uneventful: no delays or crash landings. We were expecting Fes Airport to be a tiny tin shed in a paddock. But it was a proper airport with proper check-in facilities, although you have to print your booking information so that it can double as your boarding card, contrary to what it says.
While face masks are apparently obligatory onboard, no-one except us seemed to be wearing a mask. Ryan Air staff were not to be seen for the entire journey, besides doing the safety gymnastics demonstration: exits are at the front, middle and rear. It really should be an Olympic sport the way they flap their arms in the air with such theatrics.

By the time we had cleared customs, our bags were ready to be collected. This gave Jason hope that we may get to our hotel and out to the shops before they closed. But alas, it took about an hour on the airport train and then a transfer on the metro. We seemed to have taken the scenic route, although there wasn’t much to look at. Jason thought we were travelling for an eternity. Like a child on family holidays, he continued to ask the question: “are we there yet?”.

We finally arrived and checked in. With a quick dress change, we were pounding the pavements of Barcelona in pursuit of a bargain and a beverage. It had been a little over 4 weeks since we were in Barcelona, and there was a noticeable change in the weather. For our entire trip, Princess Goldilocks (aka Jason McGoogle) has been struggling with the heat. Now, Goldilocks is feeling a little cool … no, hang on, he’s hot again.

On day two, before setting out to acquire some souvenirs, we went in search of a barbershop so that we could return home with a cool Spanish hairdo, ¡qué guay! We found a trendy barbershop around the corner from our hotel. It was probably the first time we have had a proper conversation in Spanish. Jason had his hair cut by Alejandro from Puerto Rico, and Ivan from Argentina cut mine. Ivan was from just north of Mendoza, a city that we had visited five years ago and which we could reminisce about with him. He’d been living in Barcelona for the last six years.

As Ivan was finishing my haircut, I overheard Jason and Alejandro chatting. Alejandro asked Jason if he liked Aussie girls and he answered in the affirmative before he realised what he was agreeing to. Divorced in Marrakech, a new wife in Fes, and now it seems he's on the hunt for a new girlfriend in Barcelona 🤣🤣.

Prior to getting our haircut, as we walked back to our hotel, we heard a cry for help from a guy on the street corner. At first, we thought two guys were having a flight, and so, we started to take a wide berth away from them. Soon, we realised that one of the guys was being pickpocketed, as his Rolex watch fell to the ground. The thief quickly recouped the goods and took flight. I saw he didn’t have a weapon and tried to obstruct his path, but he just wacked my arm as he flew past, with the owner in hot pursuit. With the speed that the thief was travelling, I doubt he would have been caught. It reminded us to be a bit more vigilant.

With over 22,000 steps, we retired to our hotel with all of our spoils. We decided to take a later bus to our next destination so that we could get a sleep-in. But someone or something in this universe doesn’t want me to sleep. At 4am, the fire alarms were set off. Here we go again! Will this be a repeat of Ibiza? I poked my head out into the corridor, and there was no smoke, no people … nothing. We rang reception to let them know, only to be told that they couldn't stop the alarms and that "it was okay". The alarms continued for another 10 to 15 minutes before they stopped. I'm not sure if the fire alarms were worse than the wailing sounds for the call to prayer at quarter to five each morning in Morocco! Not happy Jan! Oh well, I guess there’s plenty of time to sleep when we’re dead.

Next stop: Andorra la Vella.Read more